


Cold Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

by NyxxTheWolf



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, Fluff, Hypothermia, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxxTheWolf/pseuds/NyxxTheWolf
Summary: The first snowfall of winter happens before Geralt and Jaskier make it up to Kaer Morhen for the season. The cold makes the heart grow fonder.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just more fluff because honestly I’m in a fluffy mood these days because the world is in shambles and I need something to make me feel emotions other than rage. Not an established relationship, love confessions.
> 
> This is chapter 1 because I became inspired to write a second chapter.

The cave wasn’t the greatest shelter, but it was going to have to work. Geralt and Jaskier had been making great time back to the witchers’ keep for the winter season but a snowstorm had caught them off-guard, forcing them off of the Path to find shelter.

“G….g…g…Ger…rr…ralt..ttt,” Jaskier chattered, his whole body quivering. His skin was pale, his lips a light shade of blue, his usually bright eyes dulled with the early signs of hypothermia. “I….I’m f..f…f…fre…freezing.”  
  
Geralt frowned, his brow furrowing. He was definitely chilled, but his mutations protected him against the worst of the biting wind. He knew that if he didn’t get Jaskier warm soon, the bard wouldn’t survive the night. He chewed his lip as he gathered some wood from outside the cave, piling it high before casting a quick Igni, the wood bursting into flame. “Sit by the fire, Jaskier,” he said as he dug out his heavy winter cloak to drape over Jaskier’s shoulders.

Jaskier nodded, sitting as close to the fire as he could, his back against the back wall of the cave. The weight of Geralt’s cloak over his shoulders helped to calm his shivering, but he was still cold. “Ger…Geralt…still cold.”  
  
Geralt nodded, coming to sit behind him. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s body, pulling them together. He pressed his nose to the crown of the bards’ head, inhaling deeply. His scent was dulled and his pulse was sluggish, making Geralt panic. Jaskier needed something _more._

“Take off your clothes,” Geralt said bluntly.

Jaskier turned to stare at him, mouth agape. “Th…that s...s…seems wrong,” he stuttered.

Geralt was already stripping off his armor as he looked at the bard. He looked so fragile like this, his skin pale and clammy against the bitter cold of the air around them.  
  
“Survival basics. We take off our clothes and huddle together and share body heat,” the witcher responded. “I’ll help you.” He laid out their bedrolls, draping Roach’s saddle blanket over them to provide a buffer from the cold stone cave. When he was satisfied, he moved to Jaskier, gently picking him up and holding him to his chest. He could feel the bard shaking in his arms and he swallowed roughly. He could feel a pit of fear settling in his stomach as he set Jaskier down and began stripping him down, moving as quickly as possible without shredding any of the clothing.

Once they were both stripped down to their smallclothes, Geralt wrapped both of them in the cloaks and whatever spare blankets he could find in their packs. He kept Jaskier close, pressing the bard’s chest to his own. “It’s going to be okay, Julek,” he whispered, his calloused fingers gently rubbing small circles into Jaskier’s back.  
  
“Di…didn’t think y…you r…r…reme…membered th..that n..na..name,” Jaskier said, clinging to Geralt for dear life. He could feel his temperature slowly rising as he remained curled up against Geralt, the white-haired man emanating what seemed like an unnatural amount of body heat. “I think…I only t…t…told you a..about th..that name once. Y…you re…really do listen, ”he said, sighing softly as his shivering began to slow before stopping completely.  
  
Geralt smiled as Jaskier settled in his arms, inhaling deeply through his nose. Jaskier was starting to smell like _himself_ again, the warm cinnamon and buttercup scent filling his nose. It was still muted but it was stronger than before. He looked down and saw that there was the slightest hint of color returning to his cheeks and lips. “I always listen,” he said quietly, burying his face against Jaskier’s hair.  
  
The cave fell into silence and Geralt swallowed roughly. He had hoped he’d never have to actually _face_ his emotions, but almost losing Jaskier to hypothermia had made him realize that Jaskier was painfully and _mortally_ human and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost him to something as stupid as hypothermia. 

He knew he had feelings for the young bard, and it was only in the past few weeks that he labelled those emotions as love. He could even pinpoint the exact day: it was the day he invited Jaskier to winter with him at Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had been so excited to finally see his home and as Geralt listened to him ramble on about meeting Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir at last, he realized that he cared more for Jaskier than he had about anyone in a very, very long time. That was the moment he knew he loved his bard.  
  
“Really?” Jaskier’s quiet question pierced though the silence like a dagger. He had stopped shaking and his teeth were no longer chattering. The feeling had returned to his extremities and he no longer felt like he was on death’s doorstep.  
  
“Really,” Geralt responded. “In the beginning, all those years ago leaving Posada, I would tune you out during the day. But then I got…I got used to hearing your voice. I liked hearing it, even if I didn’t care much for...for what you were saying,” he admitted. “It got to the point where I’d actively listen to you, even if I didn’t respond. And all those winters apart, the times we’d separate….the silence was unbearable. And…it wasn’t until I asked you to…to come to Kaer Morhen this year that I realized…that…I love you” he said quietly. His chest felt like someone was squeezing it, and he held his breath as he waited for Jaskier to say something, _anything,_ back.  
  
They lay in silence again, the tightening feeling in his chest threatening to shatter his ribs and break heart.  
  
“Jaskier,” he started, prepared to tell the bard that if he hated him or didn’t reciprocate those feelings he’d bring him back down to Ard Carriagh and give him all his remaining coin and walk back up the mountain alone if that’s what would please him. He never got the chance because suddenly his lips were captured in a kiss.  
  
Kissing Jaskier wasn’t like any other kiss Geralt had ever had. Whores didn’t kiss him when he visited brothels, and the kisses he shared with Yennefer were aggressive and full of teeth and anger. Jaskier’s lips were soft, and Geralt could taste the remnants of the spices from their lunch. He pulled back gently, his amber eyes meeting with cerulean ones. “I love you so much, Jaskier, and if you don’t love me back or if you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll carry you back down this mountain and let you go on and live your life,” he said, fingers coming up to brush his chestnut hair from his face.  
  
“Gods, Geralt, I’ve been in love with you for ages. I never said anything because I figured I’d never be able to hold your affections. I’m just a human bard, you’re a witcher, why would you want me?” Jaskier’s voice was light but laced with sadness. “Besides, you had Yennefer, and I can’t compete with a sorceress.”  
  
Geralt pulled him in, kissing him again. “You are a hundred times better than Yennefer,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “Yennefer was just…I don’t know, there? I don’t love her, I never truly did. I love you, Julek. And I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me.”  
  
Jaskier smiled, his hand snaking up to gently cup Geralt’s face. He held it there for a moment, their eyes locked onto each other with reverence and adoration. “You may love me until the end of time, Geralt of Rivia, and I shall love you until my dying breath.”  
  
Geralt breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s forehead. “I’m glad you feel the same way. I don’t know how I would have coped…what I would have done if you had died tonight without ever knowing…without ever hearing that I love you.”  
  
Jaskier hummed softly in response, nestling his head into Geralt’s chest. “I’m happy you told me. I’m even happier that you saved me from freezing to death.” He chuckled softly before yawning, flexing his muscles underneath their cocoon of cloaks.  
  
Geralt’s chest rumbled softly with laughter. “Sleep, Jas. I promise I’ll be right here in the morning.”  
  
The bard nodded, drifting off to sleep in the arms of his witcher. Geralt listened to his heart rate and breathing slow down and even out, relaxing when he heard Jaskier snoring in his arms. When he was sure that the bard was asleep and not in danger, he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him. And when he opened his eyes again, Jaskier was still there, pressed against him and flushed pink with warmth and life, and he knew that things were going to work out just fine.


	2. The Sun Shines Bright For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier almost died last night. He almost died but Geralt was there to save him as always. But in the midst of almost dying, there were words shared and confessions made. Now that the storm has passed and the sun is shining, they talk about their feelings and how to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 because I felt inspired to not only touch on Jaskier's experience but also to flesh out the aftermath of Geralt's confession.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jaskier was so sure he was dying. Every part of him that wasn’t already numb hurt with an ache that throbbed deep in his core. His mind was fuzzy, hypothermia setting in quickly up in the mountains. He briefly thought about the last time he though he would die on a mountain and scoffed to himself, the sound more like a faint exhale.   
  
He felt a twinge of excitement when Geralt led them to a shallow cave, but knew that even with the shelter the frigid temperatures and howling blizzard posed a threat to his human soul. He sighed as Geralt got a fire starting, sitting as close as he could. He smiled as he felt the weight of Geralt’s cloak wrap around his shoulders.   
  
“Ger…Geralt…still cold,” he said, feeling himself growing weaker.

He was very much alive when Geralt suggested stripping down. He tried to protest but Geralt was right. He relaxed as Geralt carried him and undressed him, curling into the warmth of the witcher. He could feel the mans’ calloused fingers along his back and he knew that even if he died here, he’d die peacefully.

All thoughts of dying dissipated when he heard Geralt call him ‘Julek’. He had mentioned once, many years ago, that his mother used to call him Julek growing up. He loved the pet name, and hearing it whispered by Geralt warmed something in his heart. He didn’t think Geralt cared to listen when he rambled on about his court life as Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. He honestly didn’t think Geralt cared, and he made sure to say as much.   
  
Di…didn’t think y…you r…r…reme…membered th..that n..na..name. I think…I only t…t…told you a..about th..that name once. Y…you re…really do listen,” he chattered, sighing as his body stopped convulsing.  
  
He smiled to himself when he felt Geralt scenting his hair softly, acutely aware that his scent was probably the fastest way for Geralt to know if he was improving. He froze again when Geralt told him that he was always listening. He lay there silently, a million thoughts racing though his head.   
  
“Really?” The question was barely a whisper from his lips, and he felt the weight of it in the air between them. His body temperature was rising steadily and he didn’t feel like he was going to die in the immediate future, but now there was a ball of ice in his stomach. For years he had pined for the witcher that was now holding him. For years, decades even, he had followed Geralt all across the Continent, writing songs and singing his triumphs and sneaking in lyrics about his love for the older monster hunter.   
  
And now, the still-present threat of freezing to death hanging over them, he was facing down the idea that Geralt might feel the same way and he was _terrified_. They lay in silence and Jaskier silently hoped that Geralt was meditating and wouldn’t answer.   
  
His prayer went unanswered as Geralt began to recount the years of stories and how he _enjoyed_ Jaskier’s presence and incessant rambling as they walked. He could feel his heart swell as Geralt told him about how much he missed him when they’d part for winter, only to feel it skip a beat when he heard Geralt say “I love you” to him.

All at once, Jaskier’s head was swimming, all thoughts drowning in the new knowledge that Geralt loved him. He didn’t like him, or tolerate him, but he _loved_ him. He tried to find the words to say back, desperately digging to figure out how to tell him how much he loved him back. The silence between them grew longer and Jaskier feared Geralt would pull away if he didn’t respond soon.   
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt had started, but Jaskier wasn’t about to let him take it back. He pressed their lips together softly, eyes fluttering shut, making sure Geralt could pull away if he wanted to. When he didn’t Jaskier opened his eyes, smiling as his blue eyes met gold ones. He frowned slightly as Geralt rambled about leaving him to live his life.  
  
“Gods, Geralt, I’ve been in love with you for ages. I never said anything because I figured I’d never be able to hold your affections. I’m just a human bard, you’re a Witcher, why would you want me?” he asked. He hated that his voice sounded sad in his ears, but that sadness vanished as he held Geralt’s cheek in his palm and professed his undying love for his White Wolf. He smiled as Geralt held him closer, the two of them sharing a comfortable silence as they both drifted asleep.  
  
  


* * *

When Jaskier opened his eyes again the snowstorm had passed, the sun was shining, and he vaguely thought he was dreaming. Geralt had him cradled to his chest, and Jaskier could hear the slow thrum of his heart in his chest. He yawned, turning his head upwards to look at Geralt.   
  
“Good morning,” he said drowsily. He was flushed pink with warmth from the fire and from Geralt’s body pressed against him. He swallowed slowly. “So, um, last night…you meant it right? You didn’t just…do all that because I almost died right?”  
  
Geralt brushed his fingers across Jaskier’s cheek. “Of course I meant it, Jaskier. Yes, you nearly dying prompted me to be honest about my feelings, but I do not regret telling you how I feel about you. Do...do you?” Geralt’s voice had softened and his amber eyes searched Jaskier’s eyes for any sign that the bard was uncomfortable.   
  
Jaskier smiled, laughing softly. The sound of his laughter relaxed Geralt, and the larger man released the tension he was holding in his shoulders. “Geralt, my lovely Witcher, I don’t regret a second of our conversation last night. I’ve loved you for so long, but I always feared that you’d leave me if I told you. And then that day, on that gods-damned mountain….” His voice drifted off before he continued.   
  
“I vowed that I would never tell you how I felt. You made it clear to me that you’d never love me back and I accepted that and when we met up again by accident and you apologized, I had hope again. Even if you never loved me, I’d always follow you and sing your praises and express my love through songs,” he said, his finger tracing along one of Geralts’ many scars.   
  
Geralt leant down, pulling him into a kiss. He felt Jaskier lean in to it, their lips and bodies meshing together like they were meant to fit together like two halves of a whole. When they separated for air, they were both smiling and blushing like teenagers.

“Guess that means we’re not getting rid of each other any time soon,” Jaskier said, panting slightly. “But what are we? Lovers? Partners? What do we tell your brothers?” he asked, voice laced with nervousness.  
  
“Hmm. I like partners. You’re not just a lover to me, Julek, I intend on loving you every second of every day for the rest of my life,” Geralt replied, pulling Jaskier closer and kissing his forehead. Jaskier snuggled closer to the other man, sighing happily.  
  
Geralt kissed the crown of his head again, looking out at the shining sun. “We can stay here a bit longer, if you’d like. Or we can get going and get you to a real bed. The beds at Kaer Morhen are softer than anything we’ve slept on in months, stuffed with straw and feathers and all the blankets are furs from the animals we hunt for food,” he said, smiling a genuine smile that only Jaskier got to see.   
  
“It sounds lovely, my dear,” Jaskier responded. “I would have thought you and your brothers just slept on the floor as witchers rarely have need for material things.”  
  
“You’d be right, under most circumstances. But we spend most of the year sleeping in shitty inns or on the ground as we make camp, so Kaer Morhen is the one place we allow ourselves nice beds and fur blankets. It’s the one place where we won’t be judged because of what we are, the one place we can be ourselves,” Geralt said. “And remember, the keep was once home to human boys who needed warm blankets and soft beds to survive the winters.”

Jaskier nodded, feeling himself growing drowsy as Geralt told him about the bed that awaited them. He fought back a yawn, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s chest. “Let’s stay just a bit longer, and when it’s not dawn we can keep going. I’m still exhausted from the whole almost-dying thing.”  
  
Geralt nodded, pulling Jaskier so the smaller human bard was almost laying on top of him. “Rest, little lark, and I’ll keep you warm and safe.”  
  
Jaskier smiled, kissing Geralt’s cheek before nestling his head in the warm crook of his neck. “I know you will,” he whispered, his eyes drifting closed as sleep overtook him.

Geralt smiled at the sleeping bard, kissing his temple softly. “Always,” he whispered, closing his eyes and enjoying the peace. He was happy, happier than he had been in a very long time. He knew he’d have to tell Vesemir and his brothers why he brought a human into their home and how he loved the fragile bard, but he had no doubt that they’d come to love the pure joy and cheer that radiated from Jaskier just as he had. He felt Jaskier snore in his arms and he chuckled, content that this was only the beginning of many, many more shared nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up longer than I had planned, but I'm happy with it. Even though chapter one ended witha nice resolution, I realised that you can't have almost-death-bed love confessions without talking about it after so my muse compelled me to write another chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
